


When there was no space between us

by BlossomsintheMist



Category: The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth (2011), The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth - All Media Types
Genre: First Kiss, First Kisses, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Injury Recovery, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Post-Movie(s), Romantic Fluff, Sleeping Together, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 04:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3473633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlossomsintheMist/pseuds/BlossomsintheMist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Movieverse, set immediately post-movie.  Marcus has some trouble with his leg on the way back home, and he and Esca end up discussing some things as a result.  Accidentally.  Sort of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When there was no space between us

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt exchange on tumblr, prompt: "things you said with no space between us." As you can see, my title was very creative.

"I told you," Esca said, little more than a whisper, but half amused.  Marcus blinked, or tried to, it seemed strangely difficult.  He lifted his head and realized that they were lying together, in bed.  His head was pillowed on Esca’s shoulder, of all things.  Not that it was uncomfortable there.

Quite the opposite.  It felt … right.

"What—?" he started, before he realized that his mouth was very dry.  Esca’s hand came up, curled around the back of his neck, and forced his head back down to his shoulder.

"That you’d collapse if you kept on like you were."  The mix of emotions in Esca’s voice was hard to read—concern, perhaps, and fierce annoyance covering that, and a bit of smugness that had Marcus scowling.  "I told you, and so you did."

"We had to—" Marcus started.  His head was fuzzy, full of wool, and it was hard to remember what he’d been doing.  "The Eagle, I wanted to get it finished."  All of it.  And it was.  He could hardly believe it.  It felt impossible.  Not like something that could really happen.

"I know," Esca said.

"Did I—" he started.

"Faint? In the street?" Esca asked.  "Yes.  You did."

Marcus scowled.  Really?  He felt his cheeks warming with shame.  That was.  Well, it was humiliating.

"Well," Esca amended.  "You were almost to the inn.  So there’s that.  Thank you, by the way, for managing it so far.  You’re heavy."

"You carried me up here?" Marcus asked, and then thought  _obviously_.  Mithras.  He let his head press more heavily into Esca’s shoulder, and Esca’s hand tightened on the back of his neck, slid upwards into his hair, surprising him as his palm smoothed the hair at the nape of his neck, stroked back down.  Why were they in bed together, he wanted to ask, but he was afraid that if he did, that would end it, Esca would get up, move away, leave him.

"I made certain to get a room on the ground floor," Esca said.

That was probably for the best, Marcus thought with a bitter, heavy sense of practicality.  His leg had been very bad lately, after everything.  He was sure it would get better, eventually, it didn’t feel like the pain from before, before he’d had the second surgery, it was just so infuriating, to have it fail him like this, to have to admit that he probably couldn’t manage stairs, of all things, for another few weeks, at least not without leaning on Esca abominably.

"Not that it will matter to you," Esca said, "since you’re staying right here for at least another day."

That brought Marcus’s head up.  He scowled at him.  ”No,” he said, “I don’t think so—”

"Really?" Esca said, giving him an even stare in return.  "Because I do.  You don’t have anything else that must be done, the Eagle is returned, it’s finished.  You’re staying in bed until you can walk across the room without needing aid, or we’ll just have a repeat of this performance long before we reach your uncle’s house."

Marcus scowled at him, knowing that his face was still hot with shame at the truth of it, but Esca just raised his eyebrows.  Marcus narrowed his eyes, but Esca just smirked, as if to say,  _remember?  I’m not your slave anymore._

Marcus certainly remembered, but he hadn’t quite realized that that meant Esca would be quite so free with the orders.  But then, he probably should have expected it; it wasn’t as if Esca was the type to keep his displeasure quiet.  ”I could have gone to the baths,” he said instead.  ”I’m filthy.”

Esca snorted a laugh.  ”Hardly,” he said.  ”You Romans and your obsession with cleanliness.  I’ll take care of that.”

"What?" Marcus said.  He felt like he was being slow, but … .

"I’ll take care of it," Esca told him, and smiled.  "And you’ll stay in bed."  He reached up with his free hand, felt Marcus’s forehead, which he suddenly realized was damp, as if with sweat.  Esca’s hand felt very good there, brushing his hair back out of his face, and he was suddenly seized with a desire to lean into it, needy, like a child.  He looked away, embarrassed, and Esca’s hand slid down the side of his face, cupped his jaw, before he pulled it away.  Marcus felt warm, and very confused.  He hadn’t thought—

"You have it all decided, I see," he said, slowly.

"Well, you were flat on your back, and unconscious," Esca said.  "I did have time to think."  He tugged Marcus back down against him, and this time slid his arm over his back, holding him there.  He was just wearing an undertunic, Marcus realized, soft and clean.

"I apologize—" Marcus started, but Esca just cut him off again.

"Don’t be stupid," he said, and then Marcus had the impression he was smiling against his forehead.  "Or any more stupid than you already were, anyway."

"Excuse me," Marcus muttered.  He had, after all, been trying to apologize.

"It’s your own leg you’re so intent on abusing," Esca told him.

"And you had to carry me," Marcus said.  He felt very tired, though, half out of his head, fuzzy.  It was hard to think, hard to do anything other than lie here and pillow his cheek on Esca’s shoulder.  He could feel his heart beating, the rhythm of it, under his head.

"All right, your leg and my shoulders," Esca said, and shifted.  Marcus frowned and let him, even when his shoulder moved away, but a moment later he was back, half lifting Marcus with an arm at his back and holding a cup to his lips.  It was easy to forget how strong he was, Marcus thought, still blearily, since he was on the smaller side.  "Here," Esca said.  "Drink."

Marcus drank without thinking; it was watered wine, sweet with honey and the taste of British herbs he still couldn’t place, and it felt good against the dryness of his throat.  Once the cup was half down him, Esca set it aside and pulled him back down again.  It was what Marcus had wanted in the first place, so he let him, even though he still wanted to ask why Esca had arranged them like this, why he was doing this.  Wanted to ask, but wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer.  ”You don’t have to,” he said, then wasn’t sure how to finish.  ”Do this.  I’ll be all right.”

"I’m sure you’ll be fine," Esca said, and that was definite sarcasm.  Marcus frowned.  "But that’s not the point."

What was the point? Marcus wondered.  Esca’s hand moved back into his hair, and he sighed.  His eyes closed despite himself.

"I want to," Esca said, simple as that, and oh.  Was that—what was he saying—  "I know I don’t have to."

"You don’t," Marcus said, and his mouth felt very thick, difficult to get the words out past his tongue.  He propped himself up with one hand on the bed, curling his fingers around the frame of it, to be able to raise his head, look up at Esca.  "You know—"

"That’s what I just said," Esca said, and he sounded tolerantly, fondly impatient, but also concerned.  He reached up, felt Marcus’s forehead again.  This time Marcus closed his eyes, let him, and Esca held his hand against his cheek for a long moment before he tugged his head back down, tucked Marcus’s head in against the side of his neck.  Marcus let his breath out, let his head rest there, against Esca’s skin.  He could feel him breathing.   _I want to_ , Esca had said.  Maybe that was all he needed to know.

"Thank you," he said, suddenly, it occurring to him belatedly.  Very much so.  For so many things, he thought, with a sudden sense of shame.

"Hmm," Esca said.  Marcus had the feeling he was smiling.  "You’re welcome."

Marcus had the thought that his head wasn’t clear enough for this.  It felt like he should say something, something that might change things forever, like he was standing on the edge of something, but he couldn’t think.  He closed his eyes instead, let his head rest on Esca’s shoulder.  Esca's hand was still slowly moving through Marcus’s hair.  ”I really am grateful,” he murmured.

"You really are going to make yourself sick," Esca told him.  "After I went through all that trouble to save your life.  I’d rather you didn’t."  There was a moment, and then he added, "You’re welcome.  I told you."

"So you did," Marcus said, and he could feel himself smiling, against Esca’s neck, knew he could feel it, too.  He was dropping off, half asleep, when he felt Esca’s hand settle, at the back of his neck, holding him, felt him shift and a firm kiss pressed into his hair, just above his temple.  He tried to blink his eyes open, but they felt so heavy, and they were slow to obey him.  "Esca," he managed hoarsely.

"Hush," Esca said.  "Go back to sleep.  We’ll talk about it in the morning."

Marcus tried to peer up at him, but trying to make his eyes focus under their heavy lids made his head throb, and it was difficult.  He leaned forward anyway, trying to find Esca’s mouth with his, and missing badly—he got the hollow of his cheek, and Esca took hold of his jaw, which was the only thing that saved him from knocking their heads together.

"You are so stubborn," Esca said, shaking his head, but then his hand tightened on the back of Marcus’s neck, gripping his hair, and he turned Marcus’s head for him with the hand on the back of his neck to touch their lips together.  It was soft, the barest breath, and his lips were chapped, but it sent warmth pouring through Marcus anyway, like standing in the sun, and he caught his breath.  He thought his hands might be trembling.  For a moment there he’d thought he’d misread everything, very badly, but then Esca’s lips were softening on his, leaning up into him, and everything was all right.

He pulled away almost at once, but Marcus didn’t care any longer.  He had a feeling he was grinning, like a fool, and it was confirmed when Esca smiled back at him, shaking his head, but he didn’t care about that either.  ”Now will you go to sleep?” Esca asked him, smiling ruefully.

"Maybe I’m not tired," Marcus said.

"You’re a terrible liar," Esca informed him, "and it’s not going to be convincing when you can hardly keep your eyes open anyway."

"That’s one way you can keep me in bed," Marcus told him, still smiling.

"If you want to do that sort of thing you really will have to get some rest," Esca told him, looking like he was biting the inside of his cheek to keep his smile from spreading, "I like my bed partners conscious, and more alive than dead."

"I’m alive," Marcus told him, and he felt alive, right then, all through him, even if his eyes were heavy and he could barely think, and his head felt like it weighed as much as his armor had put together.

"Let’s keep it that way," Esca told him.  "I’d like you to start putting some of the work in on that front."

"You really want it?" Marcus asked him, suddenly wondering if he was dreaming, if this was really possible.

"I can’t believe you want to do this now," Esca sighed, then slid his hand up around Marcus’s neck, brought him down into another kiss, which he leaned into eagerly.  It was over all too soon, but then Esca was saying, serious, eyes fixed on him, "I want it, I … care about you, I want you, but that’s all I’ll say about it until you get some rest.  If you want another kiss, Marcus Flavius Aquila, go to sleep first.  That’s an order."

Marcus licked his lips, they suddenly felt dry.  ”Whatever you say,” he managed, unsteadily.

Esca grinned, and Marcus had the feeling he wasn’t going to forget his saying  _that_  in a hurry.  ”Good,” he said, and he pushed Marcus’s head down into his shoulder again.  His hand came up and rested on the top of his skull and pressed down, gently, but firmly.  Marcus got the message.

"And you say we’re tyrants," he muttered, but it was half a yawn.  He barely managed to shift his arm up, curve it around Esca’s side, shifting it under him despite how difficult it seemed, curling his fingers into his tunic, before he was asleep.  The last thing he heard was Esca’s muffled snort of laughter into his hair.


End file.
